This Little Land of Mine
by Muragaragah
Summary: Washington is a rather curious state - he's looking for America one day but instead discovers Virginia and decides to ask him about something he had overheard about Virginia's history, something never covered in any history book. Britain/OC, DL;DR.
1. Washington, DC, November 2011

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Hetalia. Copyrights Hidekaz Himaruya, the awesome.  
>This is my first fic using OCs. With <em>_**Prairie Blossom**__'s permission I was able to use her Washington OC (thanks so much Prairie! Much appreciated!~ You're awesome). The character of Virginia (and Massachusetts, later on) is my OC – I love my state. :D But yeah. I got this idea while on vacation in Florida. I got a little homesick, so what do I do? Think of Hetalia of course! /fail  
>As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.<br>Enjoy?~_

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><p>This Little Land of Mine<p>

_Washington, D.C., November 2011_

"Who's that over there, sitting in the window? That's not America, is it?" A clear, rounded voice broke the silence that had pervaded in the hallway for a few short moments.

"No, no, Washington. That's Virginia: he looks a lot like America, however, doesn't he? His history is deeply entwined with America's adolescence... Pray tell, why were you looking for America?" A different voice this time, moderately toned and embellished with a distinct English accent, a voice that hadn't changed even over the course of the four long centuries that the boy perched upon the windowsill in question had known Great Britain.

"I wanted to ask him about a few things, but I'm not worried about it anymore. I'll ask Virginia instead," Washington remarked, cracking open an aged and yellowed tome of some history book that he had happened across, situated within his grasp, "but thanks, Britain."

"Sure, lad," Britain patted the straight, shoulder-length obsidian hair that barely brushed Washington's shoulders before the young state hurried away, a wispy yet ominous-appearing slate gray raincloud hovering close behind him.

Virginia turned away from the elegant arched window in which he sat, hazel eyes flecked with gold appraising his fellow state that approached. Carding a hand through choppy, sienna-hued hair with two chin-length pieces that draped each side of his face, a huge welcoming grin spreading almost instantly across his fading pensive expression. "Hey, WA. Heard yer lookin' for 'Merica?" the cordial state inquired, his voice marked with an obvious Southern drawl that had emphasized his words since just before the American Revolution.

Washington nodded, motioning to the leatherbound volume in his hands as emerald eyes scanned whatever page he had turned to. "Yeah. I had heard some things from Delaware recently involving our big brother and Britain and… you, during the time of English colonization. I was going to ask America to clarify a few things for me about this era, but seeing as I haven't been able to find him, could I ask you about it?"

The tanned skin surrounding Virginia's eyes noticeably tightened behind black glasses, though the smile upon his face refused to falter. "'Course. Ask me anything, but I'll warn ya… y'all might not like whatch'yer probably gonna hear."

Washington nodded, turning for a moment to whisper something to his cloud, who promptly flew out of the room; it returned a few minutes later with a white cardboard cup clasped within its laden fibers, which it handed off to the Pacific state. "Okay. Could you start at the time of your colonization in 1607? That time is rather vague in the history books." The distinct aroma of coffee flavored with hazelnut wafted from Washington as he stole a swig from his slightly-damp cup, crouching to take a seat upon the floor with his book splayed in front of him.

Virginia scooted off the edge of the windowsill and lowered himself into a cross-legged sit in front of the alabaster-skinned Washington, pushing his plastic frames farther up the bridge of his nose before popping his knuckles as if he were about to take on some serious physical work. "Alright. That was the time before I even had my official name… right 'round the time I first met 'Merica…"

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><p><em>To be continued.<em><em>  
><em>


	2. Jamestown Island, May 1607

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
>As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.<br>Enjoy!~_

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><p><em>Jamestown Island, May 1607<em>

Immense, formidable trees formed a border between the dense, forested land of soil and the wild, sandy beach that preceded the fathomless cobalt of the Chesapeake Bay. A barefoot boy that appeared around the age of fourteen stood upon a cool, whitewashed rock that jutted up from the grainy sand underneath, moving long locks of untamed chestnut hair out of his eyes to gaze across the empty expanse of sea. A gust of chilly wind swirled around the boy, garbed only in a pair of pants generously tailored from the hide of a black bear. The Powhatan Indians that served as his only friends had graciously embraced him into their society upon discovering him as an infant lying in a clearing not far from their village, instructing him in their sustaining methods of farming and teaching him all of their ways of self-protection against the sometimes-vicious creatures of the wild throughout his childhood. He had repaid their kindness by helping them in difficult physical tasks that not even their strongest men could complete: he thanked the spirits for the gift of unbelievable strength that they had chosen to bestow upon him.

"Hey! You! By the shore! Heeeeeey!"

A rather high-pitched voice pierced the white noise of the waves crashing placidly against the shore. Curiosity drove the boy to turn in the direction of the unfamiliar voice, sepia eyes bulging: a pale boy that looked to be the same age as him if not older dashed along the shore toward him; he had never in living memory seen hair the exact color of wheat, or eyes that captured the hue of the sky with more accuracy than any of the paintings fashioned by his native kin. The austere boy, clothed completely in snowy-white fabric, trotted to a halt as he came up beside the tanned child. "I've never seen you around before, even though I play on this beach just about every day! Do you have a name?"

_ Name…? _"Um… Chieftain Wahunsenacawh calls me Tsenacommacah, if that counts as a name," the dark-haired boy replied, all but staring at his new acquaintance.

"Ooh, that sounds really cool! I'm America! It's nice to meetcha, Tsenacommacah!" America boisterously seized Tsenacommacah's hand and shook it feverishly, a wide pearly grin breaking across his elated face.

"Thanks, a-and you too," Tsenacommacah shakily replied, obviously caught off guard by the friendly gesture. "So… where are you from? I've never seen anyone like you around here."

America seemed to refuse to let go of his new friend's hand. "I'm from up north a little ways! I decided to explore more of my land so I started walking around a few weeks ago. I found this beach about... ehh, I'd say five days ago... and now, every day I come to visit it! I think something big is about to happen on this beach… I don't know why but that's the feeling I get."

"You mean… something like that?" Tsenacommacah gestured toward the expansive bay, eyes now trained on the vessel that captured his attention during America's spiel.

Whatever it was seemed to part the waves in its wake, flanked on both sides by objects that were identical to it. Three massive pieces of ivory-colored cloth billowed out in a concave fashion, seemingly connected to the floating wooden thing by pillars of shaped wood that would rival the trees behind America and Tsenacommacah. "I knew _something_ was going to happen," Tsenacommacah heard America mutter under his breath as the blonde turned to face the sea and the colossal monstrosities upon it, hand tautening around Tsenacommacah's in a way that conveyed fear. "Hey, Tsenacommacah…?" America spoke up, cerulean gaze shifting to look at his friend from the right-hand corner of his periphery, "I'm a little scared of those things on the ocean… it looks like they're coming this way…"

Tsenacommacah nodded in agreement before a tiny, confident smirk played against his lips. "I think they are… but there isn't anything for you to worry about, America, we'll be fine. Just stick with me, okay? I know this land better than the back of my hand. If we get in trouble or anything we can run to some of the best hiding spots around. We'll be okay."

America simply nodded as he allowed the words of his newfound friend to sink in, the air around them ringing with the alto intonation of Tsenacommacah's voice. Tsenacommacah took a deep breath, enjoying the salinity of the air that filled his lungs, before a flower of doubt blossomed within his mind. _Spirits, please, let us be okay. No matter what those big things might be._

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><p><em>"LAND HO!"<em>

A formidable ripple creaked through the intricately-laid polished wood that comprised the hull of the boat which contained approximately three dozen English men, attired specifically for exploring this uncharted land that they had been chartered to colonize. Only one man blatantly stood out from among the rest of the commoners: his choppy hair matched the hue of refined gold, his bangs only somewhat concealing a thick brow and eyes that could have easily been mistaken for cut emeralds. He had been garbed in a cobalt-colored commander's suit consisting of a jacket with coattails, a button-up shirt underneath, pants that matched the jacket and impressive ochre boots. A hat embellished with a wispy white feather of some unknown bird topped his head, resembling in fashion something that a pirate captain would have been honored to wear. "Thanks Ratcliffe, great work!" the man shouted over his shoulder as he held onto the main mast leading up to the crow's nest above the direct center of the boat, patiently waiting for the boat to come to a complete stop and for the deckhands to let down the stepway that would bridge the gap between the almighty ship aptly named _the Discovery _and the New World.

"You're going to disembark, Sir Great Britain?" Someone yelled from the crow's nest overhead; the blonde man glanced skyward to find something like a handheld telescope bobbing just over the railing of the nest.

"Yes I am," Britain hollered back as something caught his eye - his periphery shifted to the newly-lowered stepway leading a few stories down to the dampened shore of foreign territory.

"I wish ye luck, sir! The rest of our men will dispatch at your call!"

Britain nodded confidently, gulping in a breath of oceanic air as he padded across the deck of the ship and gracefully bounded down the handful of steps, some new spirit infiltrating his being as soon as his boots contacted grainy, oatmeal-hued sand that unfurled before him like a carpet. He gripped the jeweled hilt of the rapier fashioned solely for him that would easily befit one of his homeland's kings as he advanced across the shore and disappeared within the dense forest lying only a few meters past where the sand began. His senses acutely honed into his surroundings: it was as if he could hear every crinkle of dead leaves left over from autumn under the padded feet of diminutive mammals, every little scratch of finite claws against the starchy surface of nuts harvested by squirrels for their growing young... and the distinct sound of two pairs of feet trampling against the slightly moist, fertile soil. Britain halted in his tracks as if we were rooted to the forest floor, ethereal chartreuse testily whisking back and forth in front of him in search of any sign of human life. The sound seemed to quicken, crescendoing in volume until two figures emerged from behind a gargantuan oak tree only a number of feet preceding Britain.

Two pairs of eyes, one as blue as a crystalline lake and the other sun-streaked amber, met Britain's own cool-hued gaze. The two boys seemed to be polar opposites of each other: the taller and who Britain assumed to be older possessed a creamy complexion and goldenrod hair that would rival the finest spun tulle in the imperial country's homeland, while the shorter exhibited a nourished tan with long, burnt umber hair that cascaded to his shoulder blades. It seemed as if a few strands of the older boy's hair attempted to stray upward, though the boy had obviously matted it flush against the rest of his hair. The blonde took a step in front of his company and took a deep breath, apparently gearing himself up for something; Britain's eyes flickered momentarily to their clasped hands as a smirk upturned one side of his mouth. "H-Hi Mister," the adolescent spoke, his voice cracking in some places here and there, revealing every so often the deep register of his timbre which still remained high-pitched in his youth. "We s-saw you walk off of that big thing that floated on the bay. Where'd you come from?"

Britain cleared his throat, removing his right hand from the rapier that he had bound to his waist with a strong leather strap. "I sailed here in my boat from across the water. This little bay here leads out into the Atlantic Ocean, and my home country of Great Britain lies across the ocean."

"Okay, so... where are we then? And um... who exactly are you?" The boy's eyes seemed to quiver with naive fear, though he did not let the emotion show upon his face.

"In Great Britain we call this the New World - I came here with the Virginia Company of London in order to colonize this area all in the name of my country. It seems that there are people already living in this New World, in which case we, the English, will help to civilize them and acquaint them with the ways of the court." The crooked smile that formed upon Britain's face seemed to broaden. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, but I am not just a normal human being: I service my country by personifying it. London, England - my country's capital - functions essentially as the heart of my being. I had been meaning to ask, boy... do you and your friend standing behind you have names?"

The blonde's shoulders in front of him seemed to noticeably relax as he nodded, a sizeable pearly smile appearing across the width of his heart-shaped face as his voice jumped from mezzo-piano to blatant forte, "You're really cool, Mister Britain! My name's America, and the guy behind me's name is Tsenacommacah!"

_Ah, I should have expected this. So he _is _a country like myself... but what about his little friend? _Britain took the liberty to march a few feet closer to the two boys, eyes narrowing minimally to further scrutinize the two in front of him. "America, hmm? Well, boy, you're a lot like myself, believe it or not. You also represent your country in the same way that I do, but your country is still developing. And I think that Tsenacommacah there will end up playing a crucial part in the development of your new country... I can be wrong, but I have a feeling about that one." Britain turned his eye over to Tsenacommacah, who seemed to quaver underneath his privileged peridot stare. " Tsenacommacah, does your name have a special meaning of some sort?"

Tsenacommacah nodded, refusing to drop the eye contact that they had forged just a moment ago despite his nonexistent trust of the man. "In the language of the Powhatan tribe, it means 'densely inhabited area.' Does that have special significance or something, Mister Britain?"

Britain nodded, stepping between the two as his hands came down to pat their heads. "It does, lad. It simply means that you are a part of America's country. Your name primarily translates to a section of land... that is one of the distinguishing features between mortal men and those that represent their respective countries. I think that you are going to function as a province or something of the sort for America here - you'll help him make decisions when he needs a guiding hand or a second opinion, besides serve as a very close friend. It seems that you've already fulfilled one of your requirements." He flashed Tsenacommacah a bright smile before backing up the length of one stride. _Thank goodness the New World already has a representative... two, even._

"I have a proposition for you boys." A serious tone crept into Britain's accented voice as he eyed the narrow form of first Tsenacommacah and then America, "I have brought one hundred and four men from my homeland of Great Britain with one goal in mind: in the name of my country, I would like to colonize this part of the New World. Essentially, I would establish an English settlement here in order to help your country develop faster than it would without my help, America. I can teach you boys things that you would have never thought of in your dreams if you allow me to stay here for an indefinite amount of time. It is really for your benefit, America. Will you take me up on this offer?"

America hesitated for a moment before taking a step toward Britain, towing Tsenacommacah with him as he moved. He shot a glance back at his friend over his shoulder as if waiting for an answer; Tsenacommacah weighed the options and after a few tense seconds that bordered half a minute he nodded once, an ultimate gesture. America returned his nod before his Atlantic eyes turned back to Britain's own spring green. "Okay, Mister Britain! You can colonize here. So... does that mean we're kinda like family now?"

Britain's head cocked slightly to the left for a moment. "Hmm, I think that would indeed make us something of a family, now wouldn't it? Like siblings, as it were."

Something blossomed inside the cleave of Tsenacommacah's chest, just above the space in which his heart thrummed - whatever it was diffused throughout his veins, warming every inch of his body, piquing the corners of his mouth into a feeble smile. _Is this what... family... feels like...?_

"From this moment onward, no matter where the future takes us," Britain announced, a commanding note prevalent in his jovial tone, "we will forever remain brothers. Through the good, the bad... the happy and the sad... none of that matters in the end. We are a family, aren't we?"

America tugged on Tsenacommacah's hand before he relinquished his hold, tossing one arm around Britain's midsection and the other around Tsenacommacah. "From this day on!"

Gentle, unassuming tears pricked Tsenacommacah's mocha irises - the land in front of him adopted a watery quality as a grin as summery and bright as an August day emerged from the fragile smile that he had just worn. _From this day on... I have a family._

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><p><em>To be continued.<em>**__**

**_*_**_ Sidenote: Chieftain __Wahunsenacawh mentioned in the story is the official name of Chief Powhatan. The name Powhatan was bestowed upon him by the English. C:_**_  
>*<em>**_ If you're trying to pronounce __Tsenacommacah, the t is silent. (Sena-c__ó__mma-cah)_


	3. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, March 1770

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Hetalia. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
>For some reason... I wasn't too pleased with this chapter. I've edited the living heck out of it but... I dunno. Anyway, next chapter is skipping over to 1781, heads up!<br>As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.  
>Enjoy!~<em>

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><p><em>Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, March 1770<em>

"Mr. America!"

A breathless voice laced with ultimate urgency forced the caramel-haired country standing behind an expansive, dark-wooded desk to turn toward the double doors that led into and out of the main room of Independence Hall, one brow arched in confusion. Bespectacled cerulean eyes bulged at the sight of his own state of Massachusetts standing only a few steps away from the desk, seeming to clutch at something that plagued his chest. Lines of pain creased his face: his vibrant green eyes, much akin to polished malachite, noticeably narrowed as the hand on his chest tautened, strands of sandy blonde hair sticking to his face covered by a layer of frigid sweat. "Mr. America, something terrible has happened! The damned red coats that were stationed in Boston...! They fired into the crowd that had gathered there... five civilians were lost, and even more were wounded. We need to act on this monstrosity!"

Virginia, perched at a small writing table to the right of the commotion, couldn't help but to tear his eyes away from the document that one of his citizens had asked him to look over a few days ago. America's jaw clenched as his arms folded in front of his broad chest - it seemed as if the room itself held its breath before he sighed tersely and nodded, brows knitting together. "We'll deal with this all right... I'll go talk to Britain. I need to find out what the hell he's thinking... first the damned taxes he's imposed that're all but killing us, and now this... it ends now. No more American blood will be spilt by the English... I won't stand idly by while his tyranny reigns. You can trust that I'll see to your revenge, Mass, but in the meantime... you really need to go get patched up."

Massachusetts glanced down for what appeared to be the first time since the massacre, all of the color draining from his face at the sight of the growing dark crimson splotch on the front of his white cotton shirt. "Y-Yes..."

America gestured toward the door. "There's a clinic not far from here that does excellent work." He strode around the desk and to the other state perched on the right side of the room, his tone calm though it was obvious that he wanted to explode with astonished, wildfire rage. "Virginia, come with me. I need some support while dealing with Britain."

Virginia could only nod as the visage of Great Britain popped into his head, his usually jovial expression twisted with malicious bloodthirstiness, emerald eyes gleaming in the low light of the conjured image... it looked so out-of-place upon the face of his proclaimed brother, the face of the man that granted him his current name a handful of years after the official English colonization of his (and subsequently America's) land. _There's no way Britain could do this to us. We're all family. He wouldn't... no, _couldn't..._ do this to his own kin, could he?_ He stood from the desk as America paced toward the double doors and out of the room, down the hallway and across the threshold of the entrance to Independence Hall with Virginia hot on his heels. "Where do you think he'd be around this time, VA?" America shot over his shoulder as his eyes swept over a wooden post ornamented with an analog clock beside the street. "It's just now turning over to two o'clock."

Virginia shrugged before he replied, "Reckon somewhere 'e can drink tea. 'S almost tea time for 'im, ain't it?"

America only nodded before turning abruptly down one of the streets that branched off to the right from the one on which they originated, a quiet murmur of "tavern" falling from pursed lips. The blonde all but dashed down each of the streets that they turned onto before finally grinding to a halt in front of a comfortable-looking pub situated in between two brick houses.

It was obvious that the quaint little tavern that almost everyone in town frequented had once resembled the houses that flanked it - apparently the owner had converted it into his own business once he had bought the property. America shoved the glass-inlaid doors open as all of the heads of the tavern's customers turned in his direction: Virginia tried to disappear behind the broad back of his older brother but of course to no avail. The heated blonde traipsed straight toward the back of the tavern to one of its only secluded, almost removed corners and banged his fist upon the circular table, oceanic eyes boring holes into the citrine-haired man that sat there. A thick brow raised as Britain's eyes turned away from the newspaper that he perused, instead flashing up to America's slowly reddening face. "Britain, we need to talk right now, outside. Away from the townsfolk."

"I figured you'd turn up sooner or later today," Britain sighed, nodding as he hopped to his feet and stepped away from the table at which he previously perched. "Lead the way, America."

Turning on his heel, America did just that: he wound his way back to the entrance of the tavern, crossed the threshold and turned down a few streets. Britain nodded a silent greeting to Virginia during their walk, seeing as how he had fallen into step to the right of the colony. In only a few moments America led them off of the road and instead into the midst of a thick patch of colossal oak and maple trees, halting once they were safely concealed by the wide trunks and turning toward Britain: Virginia had already taken America's side, jamming his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I don't know what the hell's corrupted you, Britain, but I'm getting to the point where I can't deal with any of this anymore," America began, pausing every so often to bite the inside of his cheek to gain his composure and keep the emotion that toiled internally out of his business-like tone. "I thought things had gotten bad after the Stamp Act... but right after that you imposed the Townsend Duties, and my country's affairs worsened considerably. You're driving me into poverty, Britain - if you keep up with the onslaught of taxes I'll be wiped off the goddamned map. Is that what you want? For me, your _brother_, to disappear like that?"

Britain shook his head, expression noticeably softening as his eyes contacted the quivering blue of his younger brother's. "America, I-"

"No, I'm not done yet," America interrupted, the pitch and volume of his voice gradually crescendoing as he launched into his rant once again, "it's obvious to me that you only wanted to colonize my country for your own personal gain, _brother. _You weren't looking out for me at all... and what about what happened today in Boston? Your soldiers fired out into a crowd of my citizens... I heard they killed at least 5 people today, and even more than that are wounded!" He held up a hand just as Britain opened his mouth. "No, don't you dare to think to interrupt me! I won't have this anymore, Britain! No viable excuse can be made for your actions!"

"America, let me-"

"I said _no." _America's toned dropped through the octaves, the strains of black vehemence coating his words. "Apparently you won't listen to me since you keep trying to interrupt my spiel. I'll just have to _show _you what I mean then."

With a shake of his head America's eyes shifted from Britain and instead to the landscape just behind him as he marched off, jaw clenched tighter than ever. With a twitch of his mouth and a sigh Virginia warily turned his periphery onto his proclaimed elder brother, taking one step toward the bewildered blonde. "Britain... what's gonna happen now?"

For the first time that day Britain's eyes met the muddled hazel of Virginia's as a hand flitted up to card through his choppy flaxen hair. "I couldn't tell you even if I knew, Virginia. America hates me for what I've done... I don't think he knows that those soldiers acted of their own accord this afternoon. I had no part in their decision to fire on those people. The taxes I've imposed were supposed to help America instead of hurt him. All of what I've done... it was supposed to be for the betterment of his little country..." Britain shook his head as his shoulders began to tremble, teeth gnashing against one another in an attempt to rid himself of his emotion.

It all but destroyed Virginia to serve as a witness to the beginnings of his family's dissolution: even if they survived what was to come, he was sure that America would never think of Britain as part of his family again. The volume of his moderately-toned voice dropped to a whisper loud enough for Britain to hear although a few feet of distance separated them, breaking eye contact with his sibling to scrutinize the ground still covered with dead leaves left over from autumn. "The only family I've ever really had... it's all falling apart, isn't it...?"

The tears that Britain had been fighting to keep at bay pricked his chartreuse eyes - he had never wanted to see his own little brother looking so broken, so devastated, as if pieces of the sky had begun to plummet to earth around them... within two strides he stood directly in front of Virginia as his arms wrapped around the shorter young man. "Chin up, Virginia. Do you remember what we all said more than a century ago now? That no matter what happens, we'll always be together in this little family...? Even through the good, the bad... the happy, the sad... none of that matters in the grand scheme of things because we'd have each other..."

Virginia's body quaked as his arms coiled around Britain's midsection, burying his face into the folds of the other's cotton shirt. "T-This can't happen," Virginia mumbled in between choked sobs, arms tightening around Britain as if he were the sole thing rooting him within reality. "I can't l-lose m' only family l-like t-this...!"

One of Britain's arms unhooked from around Virginia as his hand flickered to his colony's chin and nudged his face up. All of his breath had abandoned him for a moment at the sight of his little brother's face, now puffy and rosy with the struggle of crying. "You won't, lad. _We _won't. Please, go talk to America for me, try to calm him down. I know he needs someone right now, and there's no one better than his own family, right? ...Besides, I think he'd rather throw himself off of a cliff than have me as his audience at the moment... Nevertheless, please do this for me as well as for him, Virginia. For our family's sake."

Something seemed to change within the diminutive colony then: determination colored his expression as his arm left Britain to wipe his face with his sleeve, fighting back the sobs that compiled in his chest. "A'right. I need to go, then... thank you, Britain, for the talk... and th' encouragement."

Britain squeezed his younger brother in a one-armed hug and patted his head, forcing a smile to upturn his lips. "Don't thank me. Go ahead, then. Let me know how everything turns out. There's no need for anymore tears, Virginia."

Virginia nodded as both of their arms returned to their sides: the younger began to pace away, hands jammed once again in his pockets. Britain turned to face the back of his little brother, diminishing in size as he loped away. "Love you, boy!" he shouted after Virginia, whisking away the shimmery tracks that his tears had imprinted upon his apricot cheeks.

Virginia's head whipped around to glance at Britain as his hopeful reply rode upon the chilly, pre-dusk breeze and echoed around the island nation. "Love you too!"

Britain pivoted after a few long moments and began to advance toward town, spring-green eyes never once leaving the ground in front of him. His mind wandered to the free-spirited America, inventing pictures of younger days right up to the grim visage that he wore only this evening, robin's egg eyes laced with pure hatred for the country who believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that he had given him everything... and then it switched over to Virginia, the naive little colony whom Britain had tried to give the world, the only one that still seemed to think of him as family, whose faith in him glimmered like gold in fathomless sepia eyes...

_Please, God... please don't let my mistakes, as well as the mistakes of my countrymen, destroy the only family that I have._

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><p><em>To be continued.<em>


	4. Yorktown, Virginia, October 1781

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Hetalia. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
>So I'm doing the Battle of Yorktown and the British surrender a little differently than in the show because, well, wouldn't that be a little silly just to repeat what happened? Either way, if you don't like it you can always tell me. I can handre it. And short chapter, for whatever reason… sorry if it seems rushed (it did to me). Everything else shall be explained in the next (also longer) chapter.<br>As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.  
>Enjoy!~<em>

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><p><em>Yorktown, Virginia, October 1781.<em>

_"America, listen t'me. I know you're really angry right 'bout now but please, just… grant me your audience for a few minutes as your brother."_

_ Flat cerulean eyes turned away from the heavy parchment embellished with the bold title of 'Declaration of Independence' in obsidian ink sitting on top of America's desk to glance up at Virginia, who stood a few feet back with his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I've never heard you use that kind of language before, VA. Did you pick it up from our big bro by chance?" Smarmy conceit and sarcasm coated his tone as a smirk upturned one side of his mouth, though it failed to touch his bespectacled eyes._

_ "Does it really matter? Look… we're going to lose a huge part of the little family we still have… we stand to lose our own big brother if we go through with this stupid war. Why can't everything go back to the way it was, where everyone – even you – was happy?" Sienna eyes narrowed as Virginia glared at his caramel-haired brother who pushed his chair away from his desk and stood._

_ "You realize that we're fighting for our right to be declared an independent country, right? We won't have to depend on 'big brother' anymore… it'll be better that way, and if he drops out of our family in the process, I bid him good riddance." Sarcasm bled into vehemence as America crossed half of the room and strode straight up to Virginia, leaving only a meter of space between them. "Haven't you seen what he's done to us? To our fellow states? _They're_ our rightful brethren, not that godforsaken ex-pirate. What's gotten into you anyway, VA? Sounds like you oppose your family's choice to fight for the independence that we should have already had from Great Britain."_

_ "N-No, it's not like that, America. I just want—"_

_ America shook his head as Virginia fell silent from the gesture. "No, VA. I know what you want… I've known you long enough to know when you want something. I don't think you particularly agree with fighting in this war for the independence of the United-fucking-States." America stepped closer to Virginia and clutched the collar of the shorter state's shirt, all but boring holes into his head with a subzero stare. "I don't care what you think anymore, VA. We're going through with this war and you'll follow suit like a good goddamn state would, or else you can pack your bags and go live in Britain's house, be his little 'poster colony' or whatever the hell you wanna call yourself – that way you can keep your special big brother… seems like you care about him way more than you ever did about me anyway."_

_ "A-America, no, you misunderstand—"_

_ "Shut up. I understand completely fine: I have eyes, you know. I can see what's going on. Make your decision, VA, it's either me or him."_

_ And with that America relinquished his hold on Virginia's collar and paced out of the room, leaving his state frozen to the spot._

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><p>"Great Britain, sir!"<p>

Britain turned on his heel to face the pained countenance of one of his finest generals that he had appointed alongside the queen, Cornwallis. "Great Britain, we need to stop this war," Cornwallis shouted over the deafening boom of cannons firing, "The Americans as well as the French have trapped us via both air and sea. If we continue our whole army will be wiped out. We need to stop this before any more lives are lost, sir."

"Dammit…" Britain muttered under his breath, emerald eyes surveying the wreckage of Yorktown all around them: buildings had been burned to the ground, bodies of English, French, and British infantrymen lay in the streets and the field surrounding the town, guns still clutched within frigid hands… "It seems that God had a trump card up his sleeve for us in this stupid war, namely the alliance those frogs struck up with America. Do we really have a choice in the matter? If it's come down to this, then… we must swallow our pride and admit defeat. I don't want to risk taking on any more casualties from this war. Tell the soldiers to hold their fire."

Cornwallis nodded as Britain broke into a dash, straight past what remained of the front line of British troops to halt in the center of the No Man's Land in between the English and the American armies. America held his hand up to his lines of soldiers as he stepped out, leaving a few meters of ground between himself and his elder brother, hand tightening around the mud-splattered rifle he held at his side. Atlantic eyes widened at the sight of Britain – the regalia of his military uniform had been torn to shreds, dirt scratched his face and littered his body… he seemed to be only a shade of himself from even a year ago, a faint layer of hopelessness prevalent upon his still-determined expression. "America," he called out across the battlefield as a sheet of rain poured down from the layer of charcoal storm clouds that blanketed the sky overhead, drenching everyone to the bone within a matter of minutes, "I can't keep fighting this war. Too many of my people have perished already as a result of my brash stubbornness… I should have known from the start that you would rebel if I tried to smother you."

"Why did you do it then, Britain?" America asked in low tones, jaw clenched tightly so as to not give away the sea of emotion that churned within his mind, the timbre-less voices screaming _That's your brother! Fix this mess!_ amidst a chorus of _We've finally won! Hell yeah, we're finally inde-fucking-pendent!_

Britain shook his head, his hand tautening around the grip of his rifle that still lay cocked within his right hand, ready to be used. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I've tried telling you before that it was solely for the benefit of your country, America, but even then… before the tax acts that I imposed upon you, the Boston Riot, the incident at Boston Harbor… you doubted my motives. I didn't intend to hurt you as I have, and for that I'm truly sorry."

America's teeth gnashed together as vexation pooled thermally in his chest, branching out and scorching his limbs. "Do you think I'll ever accept your stupid apology after everything that's happened, Britain? No… my God, you called yourself my older brother but it's obvious you hardly even know me! Not anymore… I'll accept only my independence from you and nothing less!" the volume of his voice de-crescendoed into something just barely above a whisper, "…figured you might've tried to apologize before things got so bad between us…"

Britain nodded once, releasing his hold on the rifle as his eyes swept over the remaining fleet of the American army that backed his younger sibling, his hardened expression completely shattering as his peridot eyes met the muddled umber of Virginia's, standing amongst the front line in the shadow of America. He looked forlorn, lost even as his eyes darted away from Britain's gaze, instead gazing down upon somewhere just behind the imperial country's head. The cobalt uniform that he wore seemed to hang on his narrow frame, the rifle within his hands obviously too big and bulky for the child trapped within the body of the young man standing just beyond his elder brother. _Does he hate me as well? _"I grant you your independence from my country, America… I guess this could be considered the end of our brotherhood, wouldn't it?" Tears shimmered within the spring of Britain's eyes though he held them back with what was left of his willpower.

America's expression noticeably tightened as he abruptly held his arm out, stopping the run that Virginia had tried to break into in his tracks without breaking the emotionless stare he trained on Britain. He mumbled something incoherent directed to his state before his voice rose so that the island nation could hear, "Leave, Britain. Send all of your troops back from whence you came. You're no longer welcome in the United States of America."

Britain's knees buckled underneath him as he crashed upon the muddy ground in a kneeling position, hands bracing the sullied ground underfoot; he couldn't bear to watch America turn away from him with an arm wrapped securely around the now-vocal Virginia so that the young state couldn't join his now ex-sibling by his side, no matter how much he cried and screamed about the proverbial death of his family. The thundering of countless boots marching across the saturated earth filled Britain's ears as he destroyed the emotional barrier that he had created in his mind at the beginning of this battle what felt like epochs ago, allowing his tears to mingle with the raindrops that streaked his face once he had turned his periphery skyward for a fraction of a moment. "God dammit!" he shouted as he pummeled the ground with one fist before an unknown hand came to rest upon his shoulder; he glanced up into the weary face of his general – the weariness that had plagued his features before had meshed into calm understanding, a gentle layer of joy at the prospect of the war ending threaded through his hoarse voice. "We have to go, Sir Great Britain. It's time. We must return to our country… and to our king."

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><p><em>To be continued.<em>


	5. Washington, DC, November 2011, Reprise

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Hetalia. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
>Well, I'm fairly pleased with how this chapter came out. Please let me know what you guys think? Also as a reminder, WA's character © <em>_**Prairie Blossom**__ – he's used with permission. =) Thanks again Prairie for all of the help with this story, it's much appreciated!  
>As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.<br>Enjoy?~_

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><p><em>Washington, D.C., November 2011, Reprise<em>

"You know, WA, everythin' jus' got progressively worse between America, Britain and m'self until the Great War, when Britain requested help from America. I think they reconciled for the most part back then… they've acted the same toward each other at least, one always pickin' on the other an' all that." Virginia cleared his throat as he finished, slipping off his onyx frames and wiping the glass with the hem of his dark shirt. "But I reckon you knew that already."

Throughout the duration of Virginia's recollection two sizeable cardboard cup pyramids had erected on either side of Washington; he drained his current cup and stuck it atop the smaller architectural feat to his right as his raincloud ambled closer to him in a languid fashion, perching against his shoulder and serving to gradually dampen the fabric of his shirt. "Wow, it's a little crazy that that much happened in only a few centuries," Washington remarked, yet his dark brows furrowed in confusion as his arms crossed in front of his chest, eliciting irritated rolls of thunder from his sleepy cloud. "Though you've somewhat skimped out on the details of your relationship with both our elder brother and Britain."

The skin around Virginia's sienna eyes tightened as he nodded. "Ah, right, sorry. Well, in regards to America we're obviously not as close as we once were but he still makes his home beside mine in D.C. Our bond is about the same as th' one that you share with him, which makes me perfectly happy. Britain on th' other hand…" he covered his mouth and coughed uncomfortably. "I hardly ever talk to 'im anymore. I wish like hell that I could change that but I'm not sure if he would wanna change it. I miss bein' 'is colony in some screwed-up way even though the quality of life in my state's improved exponentially when compared to those colonial days… but, things were so much simpler back then, easier… geez, America would wring my neck if he heard me talkin' like this."

Washington clasped his hands around his cloud not without grumbling protests before he stretched and hopped to his feet, mouth twitching to one side as he eyed Virginia with soft concern. "I could see how he would, since all of his states fought for independence, but that isn't the current problem at hand. Virginia, why don't you try to talk to Britain about all of this? The worst thing he could say is "get away from me, you wanker" in his snobby British accent. He's probably still lurking around here somewhere if you wanted to go look for him."

Virginia hopelessly shook his head as he snatched up the closed book that previously lay upon the floor in front of his fellow state, holding it out to his obsidian-haired Pacific kin. "I can't, WA. I don't wanna jeopardize anythin' between him and America by steppin' outta my role, y'know?"

Washington stifled a sigh as he accepted his book, a polite smile upturning the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I know. Thanks much for talking to me about all of this – looks like I'll have to make some revisions to my history books. Take care of yourself, okay? I need to start on my way home now, it's getting late."

Virginia nodded with a wave—Washington turned toward the exit and traipsed hastily down the hall, seemingly arguing with his raincloud along the way. The bespectacled, chestnut-haired commonwealth turned to gaze out of the window behind him: the sky had already turned a brilliant shade of orange streaked intermittently by hues of rose and freesia. A distinct, moderately-toned voice resonated suddenly from behind him, breaking the silence that pervaded as a single tap prodded his shoulder. "So, America's little state of Washington thinks I have a snobby accent, does he?"

The short state wheeled around to face none other than the personification of Britain himself, in all of his flaxen-haired and peridot-eyed glory. A smirk quirked one side of Virginia's mouth as his gaze darted to a point just beyond Britain's head, a cocky tone seeping into his voice. "Yep, reckon so, wouldn't ya? I figure you overheard just 'bout all of our conversation, hmm?"

"Pretty much all of it, I'm afraid to admit," Britain nodded once before a hand flitted up to Virginia's face, bracing his chin and forcing the reluctant state to look him in the eye. "Now, I want to know why you didn't tell me at all about how've you been feeling for these past three centuries. I can understand why you didn't tell America—he's still peculiarly defensive about his colonial history—but you could've always come to me."

Virginia shook his head as the gentle despondence from earlier glimmered once again within his sepia eyes. "I thought that you didn't want 'nythin' to do with me because of America's independence. I'm just playin' the role of one of his stupid states, after all. I'm not a country or anyone important… so, I didn't try. Also didn't wanna ruin the good terms that you and America seem to be on right now by steppin' outta line."

"It would be rather silly if I didn't want anything to do with you just because of something that happened that was more or less out of your control and essentially bound to take place, lad," Britain stated, the hand that held Virginia now returning to his side, "I do however want to establish better communication with you, as an ally and a friend this time instead of a sibling. You have more than enough of those with all of America's other states anyway."

The resistive expression that Virginia fought to keep affixed to his blunt features noticeably slipped as the last of Britain's words rang in the tense air between them. He slowly nodded a few times in silence before he inquired, "America won't be angry if we reestablish our communication ties, will he…?"

Britain shook his head. "I don't see any reason why he would, considering that I talk to most of his other states on a daily basis. If he does get angry I'll beat some sense into him… for both of us." A careful smile broke across his face as he met Virginia's amber stare directly.

Virginia perceived something gamboling within the fathomless chartreuse of Britain's eyes that had long since become his favorite color: he felt as if he had been transported back in time, standing beside a much-younger America and staring up into the formidable, embellished countenance of the man that now stood before him… he could have sworn that time between them had never moved, though the brotherly connection that they shared had been replaced with something else, something much more profound and transcendental. Without a second thought he tossed his arms around the taller Brit's neck, his chin finding purchase upon a forest-clad shoulder. He felt Britain completely freeze before he looped one arm around the feeble state's waist as an amused smile piqued his lips. "Okay then, as long as this doesn't get out of hand, I don't wanna step on America's toes by redoing these communication ties with you but… y-you have to come see Colonial Williamsburg soon. 'Specially 'round this time of year when the flowers are just starting to bloom, it's beautiful…" Childlike naivety had crept into Virginia's tone as he half-spoke, half-whispered into the shell of Britain's ear, his voice cracking in places like it had in his younger teenage days. "I even have some of my citizens act out life like it was in colonial times so people of the modern day can see for themselves what it was like back then, and you can tell they love doing it… it's awesome really…"

"I'll definitely come and see it, you can be assured of that," Britain replied before pulling away from Virginia so that he could make eye contact but leaving his arm hooked around the tanned country. "But we'll have to save that for another day, you know. It's getting awfully late after all, we need to leave the building before they lock it up for the night. Would you like to keep me company tonight? I think we need to discuss some things about our current affairs, preferably over tea… or scotch. Whichever you like."

Virginia nodded once as tepid tears pricked his irises; he blinked them back as he untwined his arms from around Britain, one hand darting to his back and finding the other's and promptly lacing his fingers through. A burst of elated joy cracked over his head like an egg, seeping throughout his entire being: he could finally tear down the wall that he had constructed in his mind barring off anything having to do with Britain, after what felt like ages of numb existence.

"Sounds great."

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><p><em>Fin.<em>


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